Haymitch's Family
by Wolverines96
Summary: One shot of Haymitch's family. The loss of his blood family didn't mean the end of his whole family. Bad summary, hopefully good story. This is my first.


_Authors Note: This is my first fan-fiction so please review. I would love to see how you guys enjoyed this story. Please only constructive criticism and no hateful comments. I don't think my fragile self-esteem could handle it. Anyways, enough of my blabbering…_

_I do not own The Hunger Games; if I did Finnick would not have died. I do not own any of these characters either. All of this belongs to the brilliant Suzanne Collins._

When I was just a boy, I was thrown into the dreaded Hunger Games. When I won, I was overjoyed thinking I could go back to my family. In fact, I was probably one of the happiest people alive. At least, I thought I had won. In all reality, I lost. I would have been better off dying in the arena. Instead I go back to the Capitol where they try to force me into becoming their slave and do whatever they wanted me to do whenever they wanted. When I refused their "offer" they wanted me to suffer. They killed my family. The Capitol killed my father, mother, baby brother, and my love all dead. That was my punishment for refusal. They took everything I cared about, so I continued to refuse. I thought I could never love, or be loved for that matter, again. I came to the bitter conclusion that I would be alone for the rest of my life. I learned this was not the case.

I was forced to mentor the children from my district in the Hunger Games. Each year I watched as one boy and one girl from District 12 were sent to their deaths. I began to turn to liquor. The pain of loss of both my family and the children was too much. I would drink until I couldn't feel the hurt anymore, in fact until I couldn't feel anything. I was well aware of my reputation as the town drunk, but only if they knew. If they saw what I saw, lost everything I lost. I grew close to each of those kids at the beginning and I would watch as each died a painful death. I eventually even drank during my job as mentor, allowing no connection between me and the unfortunate tributes.

One year was different however. These two tributes were different. They had the will to win, unlike any of the others who had resolved to die. They were both fighters, and with much thought and some…persuasion from the tributes, I decided to go easy on my drinking. They just might be able to win, and I might as well give them a try. So that is exactly what I did. These kids, Katniss and Peeta, didn't just win. They pulled a first, they both came out alive. After another few years, another Hunger Games and a war, I had grown close to these two kids. Despite the odds that were most certainly not in their favor, they fell in love. Despite the immense loss they both faced, they had enough strength to still love. I found this strength within me as well as I started to love these kids. As the years went on, and Panem was set free of the dreaded President Snow's reign, Katniss and Peeta married.

More years past, many years in fact, and I now sit in their house holding their newest baby, a little boy they named Rye. Their other child, a little girl named Willow, sits next to me and stares at her new addition to her family. Katniss and Peeta seem happy now, happier than I have ever seen them.

They dread the day they have to tell their children about the war or the Games. They worry about it all the time. I try and comfort them. I spend a lot more time around this family, and have stopped drinking for the most part. There are still some days that are unbearable, but most of the time I still don't need to drink. Instead I come over to the Mellark's house, and I am able to escape the internal hell that rages inside of me.

Every time I walk through the door I hear the screech of Willow and her call for her "Papa Haymith" since her toddler mouth can't correctly say my name. This is my new pain killer. I love Katniss and Peeta as my own children, and they look to me as a father figure, since they both lost their own fathers long ago.

As we all grow older, Willow and Rye consider me as their grandpa or papa if you will. I now know that I am loved. I am sure anyone can see it, as those children have me wrapped around their fingers, that I love them. I would do anything for them, my family.


End file.
